


Nightcall

by kabrox18



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: oops i songfic'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7976032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kavinsky is good okay don't look at me like that</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightcall

Reaper sighed and dropped a quarter into the old pay phone, pushing the keys and listening to the dull ring, tucking an arm up under his elbow and vowing his head slightly. Finally it picked up, a low growl on the other end, laced with suspicion.

“Who is this?”

“Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't want to be traced.” The words come out in a mumble and there's a long pause; Reaper almost thinks the other is going to hang up and feels his chest go tight.

“Gabe? I thought you were  _ busy _ ? Why are you calling me? It's 2 in the morning.”

“I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel,” he managed to get out, hand going tight over the formed-plastic phone.

“Is this about the argument?”

“Yes. I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear.”

“You want to come back?”

“I do. I'm so sorry.” He hides his face, wishing he could stop the choked way the words came out. Why did talking to him have to feel like a hot metal spike rammed through his heart?

“Gabe… You sound like you're going to cry.”

“I just need to see you, okay? Leave the lights on for me.” He took a long, deep breath in, listening to the slightly distorted silence. A grunt was all his answer before there was a click and low buzz. He looked sullenly to the machine, hanging the receiver back up, just standing there a long time, looking to the gas station nearby. Nobody cared when they saw him--who’d care about seeing some washed-out terrorist that was a cheap knockoff of the Grim Reaper? He rolled his eyes at himself and strode inside, not even sparing a look to the cashier as he went to the snacks. Wouldn't do much but make him feel a little better about this situation. He plucked up some pretzels, not bothering giving them a second glance as he went back to the counter, tossing them down carelessly. A hand dips to his hip and the person tenses, obviously expecting a weapon. He doesn't say anything but his eyes go downward to the grimy counter, wallet coming out instead. They ring up the salty snack and offer the bag, taking the cash. They count it out, ready to give him change, but he just shakes his head and takes the receipt. Now’s not the time for things like spare change.


End file.
